


Tears of a Clown

by MisMiz (Jaaaaack51)



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-10-04
Updated: 1999-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-26 06:57:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4994635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaaaaack51/pseuds/MisMiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buck is sad. Ezra surprises himself. And probably surprises Buck, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tears of a Clown

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my. This is what happens when you (literally) stumble across your old laptop. And spend the rest of the night rediscovering all your old fanfic. And then decide to post it here because:  
> 1\. You are about to get rid of your old laptop  
> 2\. You hope that someone derives even a fraction of the enjoyment reading it that you did writing it. 
> 
> I loved these boys. Although you wouldn't always know it from the way I treated them in some of my other fics.

"Tell me something, Ezra." Buck's abrupt demand startled the gambler. The normally loquacious ladies man had spoken hardly a word all evening and he'd been drinking steadily. Acting rather like Chris Larabee, in fact. Minus the aura of danger that perpetually surrounded the gunslinger. Buck just seemed rather...sad. Ezra hadn't really concerned himself overmuch and neither had any of the others. Buck was...well...Buck. It wouldn't be long before he was laughing and joking and out for his usual good time. Nothing kept him from that pursuit for long. So they had left him to work it out, figuring he would have either conquered it or moved on by morning. Whatever it was.  
  
"Certainly, Mr. Wilmington. I am always glad to offer a friend the gift of advice." He supposed it was some question or other about a new woman in town. But the other man surprised him.  
  
"If you was in trouble, who would you turn to?" The big man stared intently at him. Waiting for his answer.

"Do you mean if I needed an extra gun? Or perhaps merely some advice? Or do you mean if I was injured in some fashion?" Ezra was a bit confused by the question.  
  
"Any. All." Buck waved his arms impatiently. Only the slight thickening of his tone gave any indication at all of the vast quantity of whiskey he'd consumed.  
  
"Well..." The gambler thought for a moment. "I suppose if it were a matter of needing an extra gun or two, I would turn to Mr. Larabee or Mr. Tanner. For advice, I believe Mr. Sanchez would be more than adequate to the task. And of course, there is Mr. Jackson for matters requiring medical attention. Is that what you wished to know?"

"Yeah." Buck replied softly. "I guess it answered my question alright."

The bitterness in his tone was an unfamiliar sound. One that caused Ezra to frown upon hearing it. He almost asked the older man to elaborate. But a lifetime habit of not getting involved stilled his tongue. He had made steady progress in that area since joining up with the seven, but it was slow going at times, still.  
  
The gambler sighed and glanced around the saloon. The remainder of the seven had long since retired for the evening and there didn't seem to be any other prospects in sight. He pushed back his chair. He would retire as well and try his luck again in the morning. The stagecoach was due tomorrow. Perhaps some unlucky traveler could be lured into a game or two.  
  
"Good night, Mr. Wilmington." A part of him felt a twinge of guilt. Buck appeared so forlorn, sitting there with his head bowed, his usual high spirits nowhere in evidence.  
  
"Night, Ezra." Buck didn't glance up as he spoke. Just curled his hand around his glass and continued staring down at the table.  
  
Ezra began walking towards the doors, telling himself that Buck was a grown man. With five other men to confide in. Men that he was far closer to than the gambler. Men who were far better suited to playing the role of friend.  
  
He almost made it. He had one hand raised to push open the door. One foot poised to step out onto the boardwalk. Where he would be free. Where he could forget the pain he'd heard in the other man's voice. Pretend that the lonely figure he'd left behind would be just fine. But Ezra had been that lonely figure far too many times and he'd apparently changed even more than he realized. Because he found that he couldn't walk away.

"It seems that I am not as tired as I thought." Buck looked up blearily at the sound of the gambler's voice.  
  
"It's ok, Ez." he said tiredly in response. "It's just good old Buck, remember? The clown. Ladies man extraordinaire. The one you can always depend on for a good time. And not much else." The last sentence wasn't meant for Ezra to hear.  
  
"You forgot to add the most important thing of all to that list." Ezra sat down in his recently vacated chair across from Buck.  
  
Buck glanced at him as he sat, but made no reply.  
  
"Good friend." It wasn't until Ezra spoke the words that he realized their truth. And realized, with acute shame, how very little thought he and the others gave to Buck. He was just always there. Wooing the ladies. Looking after JD like a mother hen. Laughing. Not something to be taken seriously. And they didn't. They just assumed because he presented that front, there was nothing more to him. Nothing of substance. Ezra, of all people, shouldn't have made that mistake.  
  
And now, thinking about it, he could see how wrong he'd been. How wrong they'd all been. It would have taken a man of unusual generosity and loyalty to stand by Chris Larabee, only to be put aside in favor of another as a reward. Buck had accepted Vin taking his place as the gunslinger's closest friend with grace, never once indicating that he resented the tracker, although surely it must have rankled a bit. Then he'd taken the boy under his wing, JD, who tried all of their patience at times. Ezra knew he would not have concerned himself so greatly. And he didn't think any of the others would have, either.  
  
The light hearted, jovial manner of Buck's gave the erroneous impression of a man who did not feel things deeply. A man who was too busy having fun to settle down or take matters seriously. But Ezra remembered the look on his face when they'd ridden after that odious Fowler. The sorrow and guilt in his eyes when JD had been shot by that female bounty hunter.  
  
"If I'm such a good friend, how come I wasn't one of the people on your list? The list of people that you would want backin' ya?" The effects of the whiskey were starting to become a little more apparent. The last few words were slurred and Buck was slumping in his chair, holding onto the table for support.  
  
"Because we are all a pack of fools, Mr. Wilmington. And because human nature tends to take the established for granted."  
  
"For granted?" Buck was having a little trouble wrapping his thoughts around Ezra's words. The gambler would have to escort him to his rooms and pour him into bed in a few minutes. He just wanted to make Buck understand something first.  
  
"You. We take you for granted, Buck. We assume you will always be there. That we can rely upon you. You may not spring to mind and be on our "lists", but rest assured that we expect you to ride with us, nonetheless. Indeed, we count upon it."  
  
The gambler paused. Buck's expression was impossible for him to read. But was it his imagination or did the broad shoulders seem a bit less tense? The hand gripping his glass a trifle more relaxed? He decided to continue.

"Actually, I rather think it might be nice to have someone take me for granted. No one has ever done that. It's always been assumed that I would ride on one day and never look back." Ezra heard the wistful tone in his own voice and was slightly embarrassed by it.  
  
The gratitude in his friend's eyes more than made up for any embarrassment he felt, however.  
  
"Thanks, Ezra."  
  
"It was my pleasure." And it had been, surprisingly enough.  
  
"Do you think you could help me out a bit, here?" Buck smiled a bit sheepishly. He'd been attempting, unsuccessfully, to get to his feet.  
  
Ezra came around to the other side of the table and slid his arm around Buck's waist. Together they managed to haul the larger man to his feet.  
  
"Gotta make sure I get my beauty sleep ya know." Buck explained as they started walking in the direction of the batwing doors. "Wouldn't want to  
disappoint the ladies."  
  
Ezra chuckled. Good old Buck. You could always count on him.  
  
The End  



End file.
